The Pilgrimage
by Karri
Summary: A father and son take a pilgrimage to an ancient harbor.


"Are we nearly there, Papa?" Cenwulf ask, slouching with exaggerated weariness as he peered up at his father.

"Yes, child," replied Elwyn. "In fact, if we make good time, we might reach the port by noonday and have time to sup before the ritual that concludes our pilgrimage."

Cenwulf wilted further and sighed dramatically. "I don't understand why we bother," he grumbled under his breath. "There are many more useful things we might be doing other than trudging to a ruined old port that no ship ever even sails into anymore just to throw away valuable things of which we might still have good." His hand tightened reflexively around the hilt of the sword resting against his hip.

"Aye," Elwyn responded. "There is much work to be done at home, but this, too, is important."

"Important?" scoffed Cenwulf. "I don't see how. The Elves will never return; no matter how many pilgrimages are made to the Grey Havens or how many sacrifices are made once we get there."

Elwyn frowned, then peered thoughtfully at his disgruntled child. "Mayhap that is true," he conceded. "The Wise Elders say the world has grown grim since the Elves departed. Were I away in the Lands of Light, I think I would perhaps not wish to return to this dark place, no matter the sacrifices offered."

"Then why do we bother? It's just a waste…" huffed Cenwulf.

"Hmmm," mused Elwyn. "Well, first off, though I would not return, we cannot say for certain that the Elves will never. They are beings far greater than we…"

"If they even exist," scoffed Cenwulf. "Mayhap they are naught but tales the Elder tell you to sound wise."

Elwyn frowned. "Do not scoff, child. They may not return, but should they, we would not have it be in anger. For who knows the woes they could rain down upon us."

Cenwulf harrumphed.

"The stories are not mere tales, as you well know," scolded his father. "You have seen the Faerie mounds as clearly as I, and I have seen the black stone tower and Great Faerie Cave in the east."

"Aye," acknowledged Cenwulf. "I have seen Faerie Mounds, but what proof have I seen that they are not simply remnants of our ancestors?"

Elwyn sighed softly, comprehending that ought he might say to counter his son's statement would be useless. Cenwulf was weary, bored, and of an age to disregard his words on the best of days. He settled simply for, "You will see when we reach the Grey Havens."

Cenwulf harrumphed again, but settled into an ill-tempered silence as he trudged alongside his father.

oOoOoOoOo

By the time the pilgrims finally came within sight of the Grey Havens, Cenwulf's sulking mood had begun to infect his father. They had not made good time and were pressing themselves to arrive before the ritual began. Even so, Elwyn slowed in anticipation of his son's first glimpse of the ruined port.

"Ooooh!" Cenwulf exclaimed, his expression lighting with wonder as the group dispersed to wander among the ancient archways and staircases. "How can this place be?"

Elwyn grinned, remembering his own feeling of awe the first time he'd taken the pilgrimage with his own father. Then he huffed, teasingly, "Perhaps it's simply a remnant of our own ancestors' skill with stone."

Cenwulf turned wide eyes upon his father. "Nay," he stated, earnestly. "Men could not have built this." He turned, letting his gaze wander across the ancient docks and pathways, the archways and tall, straight walls of buildings that, though long abandoned and neglected, still gleamed in the sun. "Can it even be called a ruin, papa? It still shines!"

Elwyn laughed and clasped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Come, if we hurry down, we may yet get a good spot. We can explore properly afterward."

Cenwulf nodded absently and allowed his father to guide him as his gaze continued to soak in all he could see. When they stopped moving, though, he focused his attention on the pier ahead of him. They had not gotten a _really _good spot, for their group had arrived too late for that, but his father had gotten them close enough that he could just hear the Wise One bless the boat that had been made for the occasion by the shipbuilders who had come ahead of the rest. Though small, it was made of a white wood and had a graceful swan prow. Cenwulf decided it was a grand boat quite befitting of the ancient port and the Elves who had built it.

He watched as the Wise One finished blessing the boat and then made his offering. Through the throngs in front of him, Cenwulf couldn't see what had been sacrificed, nor what the next in line offered as the procession of pilgrims moved up one by one to drop their treasured item into the boat, so he turned to his father instead. "Will it really reach them, do you think, Papa?" he asked.

Elwyn shrugged. "I cannot say for certain, but I hope it will. For we owe them much, I think."

"What do we owe them?" asked Cenwulf, a hint of cynicism returning to his expression.

Elwyn cocked his head and peered seriously at his son. "Do you believe now that the Elves are real?" Cenwulf nodded, somewhat reluctantly, so his father continued, "If that part of the tales is true, then so must be the stories of the battles they fought to rid our lands of the worst of the fell beasts that once threatened the world."

"I suppose…" Cenwulf agreed. "But then they left us...nay, abandoned this world, never to return."

Elwyn shrugged. "They left, that is true, but whether or not they return one day or no, I believe they look after us still, in a way."

"But…how?" Cenwulf queried. "If they are not here…"

"I think, even away in the Land of Light, they watch over us and protect us," Elwyn stated, raising a hand as Cenwulf opened his mouth to object. "Nay, not perhaps from the daily trials of life, such as spring floods or a winter plague. No, I think they do not suffer themselves to interfere with such trivial problems of humankind. They let the world grow dark, and sometimes grim, but that is down to us, I think to improve. For the world was left to men, and men can choose to fight the darkness or find our own light. I think, though, that perhaps, even from afar, they still watch over the world and keep away the fell darkness that we cannot fight; the ancient evils that would gobble up this world if let loose."

Cenwulf pondered his father's words as they both stepped to the front of the procession.

"It is your choice, Cenwulf. I will not force you to sacrifice for a cause you believe unworthy," Elwyn stated, as reached into his pocket and took out a bundle.

As his father unwrapped the bundle, Cenwulf saw that it was Elwyn's best gold broach. His eyes widened, then dropped to the hilt of his sword. He shifted his gaze up to the gleaming archways, then sucked in a deep breath and nodded to himself. Stepping forward, he released his scabbard from his belt and with one final, long look at his treasured sword, placed it with the rest of the offering and turned away.

"You are right, papa," Cenwulf stated, as his father clasped him again by the shoulder and led him away. "It is enough that they stand guard from afar and leave us to make of this world what we will.

The end.


End file.
